


A Child Needs His Father

by myglassesaredirty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (yet), Canon Related, Dad!Tony, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Major Depression, Major Spoilers, Not A Fix-It, POV Peter Parker, POV Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter-centric, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony-centric, actually yes we 100 percent do, bitch you better bring him back, but hey you know, but you know my angstiest work? this is worse, can you blame tony tho? he just watched his kid die in his arms like. that’s GONNA mess someone up, eventually a fix-it fic, i might make a sequel we’ll see, i read an article about quantum physics for this, i'll think of more tags don't you worry, ideas ideas, in the later chapters i'll switch things up so i'm gonna tag them now, in this house we post sporadically like MEN, in this household we do not kill peter parker, it's trippy, iw depressed me so i decided to get more depressed and then fix everything, i’m ending it here because it wrapped up nicely, oh buckle up for the angst, oh god. it is SO much worse, okay but seriously take care of yourself first, sit down shut up and buckle up because we about to be in for a TREAT, so this is going to be weird, squints at canon, this ain't anything like iw was, unbetaed, we don't beta fics in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:43:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: MAJOR INFINITY WAR SPOILERS DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED"I don't feel so good."It's the worst sentence Tony has ever heard.





	1. A Planet Called Titan

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel fucking. I hate them. Fucking cowards. Killing off my favorite character right before the end of the movie. Fuck them.
> 
> I'm gonna fix this fucking scene so far up Marvel's ass, they'll be reciting this fic as a mantra
> 
> Jk but I'm not kidding about how depressed this made me.

“Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony’s mouth goes dry. No, not him, anyone  _ but _ Peter Parker. He turns around, hoping to God that Peter’s just scared, just wondering what happened to their companions.

 

Peter stumbles forward, his breathing picking up. “I-I don’t feel so good.”

 

_ I don’t feel so good _ . He suddenly feels nauseous, and he feels tears jump into his eyes. No. Not him. Not his  _ kid _ . Not the only person he had left. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t stop it. He can’t save Peter, not now, not ever. “You’re alright.”

 

“I-I do– don’t know what’s happening –”

 

_ No, not you. Anyone but you, kid, come on, pull through. _ His heart aches with lead, with dread. It feels like a weight is pulling his heart down to the pit of his stomach, and God, he would give everything he has to trade places with Peter Parker.

 

Peter stumbles into Tony’s arms, and Tony reaches up to hold him.  _ This one is a hug _ , he wants to say, but now isn’t the time. It never was the time. He cradles Peter’s head in his hand, and he finds himself running his fingers along the base of Peter’s hairline. He needs to remain strong for the kid. He needs to, he needs to, he –

 

“I don’t wanna go,” Peter begs and Tony’s heart breaks again and again and  _ again _ because Peter’s voice is too small, too young. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, please, please, Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go.”

 

Tony presses his cheek against Peter’s hair. His fingers gently tangle in Peter’s hair. He doesn’t have the words, he doesn’t have the energy or the time to try and make things better for him. Tony doesn’t know how to reverse this, and without the time stone, they  _ can’t _ . Peter’s going to die, and Tony –

 

God, this hurts.

 

Peter clings to Tony and begs him like a child begs a father to fix things when life gets too hard, and Tony does, God, Tony would give anything to be able to. He wants to hold Peter close and tell him everything will be okay, that he just is reacting to the deaths of his companions, but it’s a lie, it’s all a lie, and Tony doesn’t know the truth.

 

_ I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go please, please – _

 

Like a child begs his father.

 

_ Please, Mr. Stark _

 

Never Tony. Always “Mr. Stark.”

 

_ Please, Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go _

 

Doesn’t matter what Peter wants. Doesn’t matter what Tony wants. All that matters in this time is what Thanos wants, and Tony would square up with that Titan just for the fate of this boy. And he would win, even if it meant his life. A life for a life. Peter for Tony. He would do it. If he just had the chance, he would take it.

 

_ I don’t – _

 

Tony kneels to the ground. He can’t bear Peter’s weight anymore, not with the stab wound, and not with a broken heart. He bore a moon on his shoulders, but this – this is a thousand times worse.

 

(He’s always been Atlas, he thinks. Always takes on the weight of the world, when he loses people he loves. First, it was his mom. Then Yinsen. And JARVIS and Obadiah and Coulson and Steve and now…and now Peter.

 

Peter’s the worst of them all. Peter was his son.)

 

Like a child begs his father.

 

Tony lets Peter lie on the ground, and Peter cries for a moment longer. He realizes, a second later, that there is nothing left to do but face his death, so he turns his head to Tony, and says, “I’m sorry.”

 

_ I’m sorry _

 

(Peter always apologizes. Tony never gets to.)

 

_ I’m sorry _

 

Like a child who thinks he disappointed his father.

 

_ I’m sorry _

 

A “so long,” a “farewell,” a goodbye.

 

Goodbyes are never good.

 

_ I’m sorry _

 

A child bidding his father goodbye. For good.

 

Tony sees it in Peter’s eyes, the way it takes him so much effort to swallow.

 

_ I don’t wanna go _

 

_ I’m sorry _

 

_ Please, please, Mr. Stark _

 

Peter’s shoulder crumbles in his hand, turns into ash and fades away with the wind. All that’s left of Peter Parker is the ash left on Tony’s hand. No more life. Death. Death and despair and darkness.

 

Like a father losing his only child.

 

_ Don’t go, Pete _

 

Like a father trying not to mourn.

 

_ Nothing to be sorry for _

 

He should have sent the kid home.

 

_ I’m trying, son, I’m trying _

 

A promise that might have worked. A promise that might have saved.

 

Instead, he was always doomed to see his loved ones disappear before his eyes, and he never got the chance –

 

Never got the chance to say goodbye.

 

The way any good father would.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He dreams of Afghanistan, of the Mandarin. He dreams of space and aliens and Steve and Siberia.
> 
> He dreams of Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO. So this is gonna just be a fic that I update sporadically because why would I do this any other way? I don't. So, as proof, I'm just gonna post. And then write twelve different WIPs. And then post a different chapter. It's gon be wild.

He remembers crying.

 

He remembers holding his bloodied hand to his face, rocking back and forth. Ash sticks to it, and maybe he’s almost thankful, maybe he remembers Peter Parker.

 

The blue woman never offered him comfort. He never asked for it, but God knows he needed it.

 

He remembers trying to sleep, but the nightmares are worse. The nightmares have flashed behind his eyelids since Afghanistan. Water and fire. Yinsen and bullets. Obadiah and metal swirling around in his mouth. Flashes of electric blue, buildup of plasma in his chest, a child staring a drone in the face, a car flipping over.

 

(A child that looked and acted too much like Peter Parker. He faced death and didn’t back down, didn’t blink.

 

The child always morphs into Peter’s innocent face, terrified as he begs Tony for his own life.)

 

Aliens and a Hulk. A god of thunder and a helicarrier about to fall from the sky. A tale of Jonah and a one-way trip up to space. A call that never went through. A nuclear missile pressing on his back. Stars, endless and bright, close enough to see but too far away to touch. The feeling of falling, falling, falling. Weightlessness.

 

(He remembers the stars years later when he comes to. Six years later, and he still tastes stardust in his mouth. Now, he realizes it tastes like ash.)

 

Terrorist attacks. Happy lying in a hospital bed, burned and bloodied. His home exploding as he and Pepper and Maya stand in it. Falling into the water that tastes so cold, so salty. Snow and ice and a child at risk.

 

(Not Peter this time. Peter’s okay, he’s safe. This time, Harley is at risk but Tony can help him. Tony does help him.)

 

People who can melt and come back together. White-hot pain on his arm as a burning woman clutches his forearm in his hand, tilts her head, and smiles. Pepper at risk. Maya taking a bullet in front of him. Reaching, reaching for Pepper, and he almost catches her. She falls. He doesn’t catch her.

 

The fall of SHIELD, as he tries to patch calls through to every person he can think of: Hill, Fury, Cap, Nat. None of them pick up. All of them are at risk. He hears about the double agents. He thinks of himself as one of them. He caught the threat too late. Too many paid the price. The tally rises. He has so much blood on his hands.

 

(Peter Parker was on that list. He didn’t know him, then, but he does now, and he wonders what would have happened if Cap hadn’t been able to stop Hydra. Peter would have been gone.)

 

The end of the Avengers. Five of them lying on a hill, all of them dead, their weapons destroyed.  _ You could have saved us _ echoing in his brain. A scarlet witch with a ruthless smile and power beyond his imagination. A silver runner. A Hulk that destroys a city. A robot hell bent on taking over the world.  _ No strings on me _ . A fallen city.

 

(When he looks back, he worries about Peter. Worries about the same scarlet bursting behind Peter’s bright brown eyes.)

 

An entire city leveled. Accords, documents, pens. Steve. Bucky. Security breach, crashing helicopters, a bullet meeting his repulsor, one foot away from his face. A gaping hole in the compound. Scarlet energy. Peter Parker crashing through a window. Cars crashing down on him, landing on top of him. They block the light from him. They circle around him. Claustrophobia. A fiery truck flying towards Nat. The hand of a giant batting Peter away, into boxes of cargo. It might be precious, but it’s nothing to Peter’s life. He’s still, unmoving. Tony can’t see his chest move. For the briefest second, he could be dead. Rhodes, falling, falling from the sky. Tony moves as quickly as he can, but it’s not fast enough.

 

(He’s never fast enough. Not to save Pepper, not to save Rhodey, not even to save Peter. He’s doomed to watch his loved ones fall.)

 

A metal hand wrapping around his mother’s throat. Red, blood and rage and love. The arc reactor being ripped from his chest. A shield slamming into his skull. Cold air embracing him, but his face is bloody, bruised, broken. Cap hovers over him, his shield gripped in both hands. He’s about to die.

 

(He’s not that lucky. He’s never that lucky.)

 

The shield crashes onto his arc reactor, and his suit dies. He’s left alone in the freezing winter, wishing for a quick death.

 

(It doesn’t come. It never comes.)

 

A blip on his watch that alerts him to a change in altitude. Peter’s up too high. The parachute deploys, and Tony tries to relax, but the blip changes. Peter is in the Hudson, underwater, and he’s not moving to get up.

 

( _ Underwater _ . The parachute probably is drowning Peter, not saving him, the very opposite of its purpose. Tony feels his heart in his throat.)

 

He sends a suit to save him, but Peter questions why he can’t keep going after the bad guys. Peter always questions why. The Washington Monument falls. Peter catches the ones trapped inside. He falls, but Tony isn’t there to keep him from falling. A call, a ferry horn, an explosion that rips a ferry in two. Peter, straining to keep the boat together, terrified that people might die at his hand. Though he’s scared, he’s willing to help, and Tony’s so scared that he pushes Peter away.  _ If you even cared, you’d actually be here _ . 

(Tony has always cared. Tony’s here.)

 

Peter stumbles away from Tony, and Tony wants to tell him that he cares, but he’s just so scared for the kid.  _ If you died…I feel like that’s on me _ .

 

(It is. It is Tony’s fault that Peter was roped into this mess with Thanos. He should have gone home.)

 

_ I just wanted to be like you _ , Peter says. It’s too much for Tony.  _ I wanted you to be better _ . A punishment. Homecoming night, and Peter is trapped underneath a pile of rubble, calling for help with a voice too shaky, too small, too young. Broken bones, rust, blood, water.

 

(Tony saw the footage. If he had just had the suit Tony had taken away from him…

 

It’s Tony’s fault. The way everything is. Tony should have stopped Toomes. He didn’t. He let Peter take care of it. Claustrophobia. Dust and metal and water.)

 

A plane crash in New York City. The immediate question of  _ is this a terrorist attack? Is Peter caught in the crossfires of a terrorist attack? _ No one has forgotten the events of 9/11. Tony runs up to the beach. Peter disappeared hours ago, but he’s okay. He’s always okay.

 

(Except for  _ now _ , when it matters most, when Tony would trade his own life for Peter’s. Except for  _ now _ , when Tony remembers how Peter pleaded for his life, how he clung to Tony and begged. He couldn’t do anything.  _ You’re alright _ is all he said)

 

He sees Bruce again. He sees a giant donut in space, and two terrifying creatures – one who can control everything with his mind, and one who is powerful enough to rival either the Hulk or Thor. A hand stopping the second creature from destroying him. It’s Peter. Peter gets sucked up into the donut trying to save Strange. He falls. This time, Tony catches him.

 

Peter stays. He risks his life, time and again. Doctor Strange says he would trade Peter’s life in favor of the stone. A man from Earth – outer space, Tony really can’t tell which – presses a weapon to Peter’s head. Tony reacts. Orange and red, flashes of rage and fear and hearts beating in terror. Thanos slamming Peter into the ground. A knife – his  _ own _ knife – piercing through his skin. He feels his lung tear apart, and he coughs. Blood spills out.

 

Strange trades the stone for Tony’s life. Tony doesn’t understand why.

 

(Later, Tony screams up at the sky and begs God to take him instead. To bring Peter back and take him instead. A life for a life. Peter’s for Tony’s. His throat turns raw and his voice becomes hoarse. He screams for hours.)

 

His companions turning into dust before his very eyes, but Peter, Peter Parker…

 

Peter feels his death nearing, and he stumbles forward as his legs begin to disintegrate. Tony catches him before he can fall, and Peter clings to him, begs for his life.

 

(His voice is so young, and Tony remembers that Peter was only sixteen.)

 

_ I don’t feel so good. _

 

_ I don’t want to go, please, Mr. Stark, please, I don’t want to go. _

 

The way a child begs his father.

 

Peter turns to Tony in his last moments, and Tony tries all he can to save him. In his last breath, Peter turns and says  _ I’m sorry _ .

 

Tony’s nightmares don’t end. They just repeat, stuck in a loop. No matter how bad they are at the beginning, it’s always the worst by the time Tony remembers Peter.

 

He doesn’t have a voice after the first night.

 

\---

 

The blue woman drags him to his feet the next day and demands that he help her repair the ship. Tony knows nothing about it, but she points him to various stations and describes how to fix it. When he gets confused, she tells him to step aside. Eventually, she tells him to repair his suit while she fixes the ship.

 

Tony tries. He tries to block the memories of Peter hovering over his shoulder every time he began working on a suit, the way he would shyly point to the control board and suggest an improvement. When it gets too much for Tony to handle, he decides to listen to the Peter from his memories. He has very little to work with, but he learns how to make synthetic material from the dust, learns how to create a self-healing suit with the nanobots.

 

Tony doesn’t know how many days, nights, weeks have passed when the blue woman – Nebula, she introduced herself as – comes to him and tells him, in that raspy voice of hers, that the ship is ready to sail. They’ll leave in the morning.

 

Tony wants to scream, wants to fight against the very idea of leaving because  _ Peter _ is still here, what happens if  _ Peter _ returns. When he stares at the stars, he tastes dust. Absently, he remembers that he hasn’t brushed his teeth since he left for Titan.

 

That night, he imagines Peter begging him to stay, begging him not to leave him alone on this planet, with no way of contacting Earth or May or anyone else who matters.

 

Nebula has to physically drag him onto the ship the next morning.

 

The only thing Tony had proved to be capable of was finding the travel paths. He reroutes the ship back to Earth. “I have to make sure I’m not alone,” he tells Nebula. She doesn’t argue with him.

 

The earth is green and brown and vibrant. People still push on, buildings still stand, cars still run. Pets search for their owners, and for some reason, that cuts deeper in Tony’s heart than anything else has thus far. There are too many civilians to land the ship in New York City, and as soon as it appears in the sky, Tony can hear the echo of screams.

 

They think it’s another attack.

 

(He closes his eyes and wonders if Peter would have recognized that this time, it wasn’t a threat. They’re not a threat.

 

Except he’s a threat to everyone he’s ever come in contact with. Everyone he ever loved leaves him, everyone dies, the blood on his hands accumulates. It’s red and it stains his body. He wants to wash his hands from it.)

 

Tony directs Nebula to upstate New York, and near the compound, she finds a grassy area to land. The remaining Avengers have gathered, weapons up, prepared to fight.

 

He’s just tired.

 

He walks out onto the field. “It’s just me,” he says.

 

(He wishes with everything in him that he’d be able to introduce Peter to them. Not just him. Peter and Tony. A child with his father.)

 

Nebula shyly waves her hand. “Thanos killed my sister to get the soul stone,” she whispers in that raspy tone of hers.

 

(No one offers their condolences. Everyone is grieving. Everyone has lost someone. There’s not any grief to go around anymore.)

 

The War Machine faceplate flips up, and Rhodey looks to Tony as if he’s a ghost. “That really you, man?”

 

For the first time since Peter’s death, Tony doesn’t feel empty. His heart aches less. “In the flesh, buddy.”

 

Rhodey disengages the War Machine suit and hurries toward Tony as fast as his prosthetic legs will carry him. Tony steps out of the suit in time for Rhodey to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank  _ God _ you’re alive,” he says.

 

( _ No _ , Tony thinks.  _ Don’t thank God that  _ I’m  _ alive. Peter deserved to be the one to return. Peter deserved the world. _ )

 

He buries his face in Rhodey’s shoulder. He doesn’t have words.

 

(How could he, he thinks, when he’s lost the very person he loves most? He notices Peter in the way Rhodey hugs him tightly, the way Bruce nervously fidgets nearby, the way Steve hovers closely. He sees him in the grass, young and green and still alive, in the bright blue sky, in the birds that chirp despite the apocalypse. He will not be able to live without a reminder of Peter.)

 

Tony clutches to Rhodey (the way Peter clung to him), and he sobs (the way Peter sobbed in his shoulder). “You’re alive,” he breathes. He doesn’t ask about Pepper or Happy or any of the other Avengers. It’s enough, right now, that he didn’t lose everyone he ever loved.

 

“Pepper’s safe,” Rhodey whispers. “She made it. She’s in the compound.”

 

It’s too soon for Tony to step away from Rhodey, too soon to rush to Pepper’s side. He remembers his last face-to-face conversation with her.

 

( _ I dreamt we had a kid. It was so real. _

 

He had a kid. He lost him. It was real.)

 

No, it’s too soon. Tony shakes his head, his forehead gently rocking against Rhodey’s shoulder. “We need to get to work,” he says, and his voice is heavy and he’s defeated. It’s too much for him.

 

“You need to rest, Tony.”

 

(He doesn’t tell them that he can’t rest. He tries to, but every time his eyes close, the nightmares begin playing behind his eyelids. They start out in Afghanistan and end in Titan. They start with him in danger and end with Peter dying. He feels, whenever he sleeps, Peter clinging to him and begging him,  _ I don’t wanna go _ .)

 

Tony finally steps away from Rhodey and wipes his eyes. “Let’s just get inside first.”

 

Later, they’re going to ask who he lost. Later, he’s going to tell them. Right now, though, he needs to see Pepper, he needs to sit in Peter’s room and remember him.

 

His legs are shaky, and he leans on Rhodey the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been sleeping well lately, so I'm just going with how I think Tony feels.


	3. Try, Die Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up in the Nothing Place. He doesn't even know if he exists anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to ObsessivelyCompulsive for helping unblock me for this chapter. I combined a few of your ideas. Again, thank you!
> 
> I'm going to update this between updates of my other WIPs. For example, I updated the runaway au last, and now I'm going to update this one. If M*A*S*H happens to be the next burst of inspiration, I'm going to update that one next and then this one.
> 
> This is Peter's POV.

He wakes up, and he feels nothing.

 

When he looks down at his hands, he can’t see anything. He can’t see his feet or his hands. At first, he thinks the Place is just dark, but when he lifts his hand to touch his face, he doesn’t feel his hand touching his cheek. His hand passes through his face, and in that moment, he panics and flies backwards, flailing and screaming.

 

Without body, he has no lungs. No way of breathing. No way of talking or screaming or praying.

 

He’s as good as dead, and yet, somehow, he knows he isn’t.

 

He’s gone. Disappeared. He doesn’t exist anymore.

 

Peter forces himself to calm down, which, again, is a feat when he can’t really breathe. He looks around, and he sees nothing. He feels people, feels them so  _ viscerally _ that they are real to him. People he’s never met…he knows their fears, who they left, what they did, where they’re from. He even knows their names. Like that woman over to his…left? Her name is Jessica, and she’s from Sydney, Australia. She wanted to be an actress. The man in front of him – Joshua – is from Texas, and he keeps thinking about the cold in this Place.

 

It is cold. Peter doesn’t deny that.

 

He needs to get out of here. He needs to find Mr. Stark and tell him that he’s doing okay, that he’s alive and just needs to get home. He needs to tell Mr. Stark how to defeat Thanos.

 

Peter tries to navigate through the masses of souls, and it takes him a moment to realize that he can, in fact, see. He can see hazy colors, but he can’t see shapes or people or bodies. It’s not black, anymore. The Nothing Place is tinged with orange. It’s simultaneously the ugliest and most beautiful color Peter has ever seen. He follows the brightness, the way the color tugs at him. He thinks he’s dying. That’s all it can be, right? There’s a bright light at the end of the tunnel, after all.

 

(It doesn’t matter. He’s already dead. Die once, die twice, it doesn’t matter. It never has. One death, two, ten, eighteen. How many more until Thanos is defeated? How many until he can go home?

 

Die once, he’s not dead. Die twice, he can’t lose more than he has now. Die three times, and he’s dead for sure. Die until the world is saved. He’s an Avenger. He’ll do what it takes. Follow the light, die again. Keep following the light. Destroy the universe. Snap the fingers. Blow away in the wind. Die, die, die. Does he ever do anything else?)

 

One man, crying for his children. He lost them in the first attack.

 

His only daughter left. Crying for her missing father. They’re so close, but they can’t reach each other. They’re dead, gone, lost to the wind.

 

One woman cries for her dog. Peter feels, somehow, that in the Nothing Place, dogs don’t exist. Either they didn’t fall victim to the snap, or they’ve gone elsewhere. No dogs, no life, no breath. This is the world they live in now.

 

The orange gets brighter, and he can feel someone thinking about books and pens and homework. A teenager who thinks about the end of the world and two computer geniuses. He knows, before he reaches her. Michelle made it to the Nothing Place.

 

Flash is here, too. He can feel Flash curled into himself, crying for everything he’s lost. Inside Flash’s mind, there’s turmoil: gratefulness that he’s disappeared from his father, but fear of the Nothing Place. He feels the regret and insecurity inside Flash’s mind.

 

(Try, try again. The dead pity the living. Here, everything can be okay once you adjust. Flash is freed from the fear of one person.

 

Try, try again. The living pity the dead. They push on through life and triumph. They hold the trophies to their successes. No longer are they enslaved to the fear of disappearance.

 

Try, try again. No one is alive. Some exist, others don’t. The Nothing Place tastes like tears and dust and rust. Earth tastes like smoke and trees and love. Try, try again. People are dead, everywhere. Some hide it better than others. No one wins. Everyone loses. A snap. Reality sets in.)

 

There’s a burst of orange. Peter steps through it, forgetting about Michelle, forgetting about Flash. When he steps through the light, he sees New York City, abandoned. Fliers float on the wind. Streets are deserted. He walks towards a shop and tries to peer into the window. There’s nothing there; no one exists anymore.

 

(And when he wakes up again, he’ll remember this. The feeling of Nothing. Nothing exists, not here, not now, not ever. He wonders about the solidity of himself, of his friends. He wakes up in bed tasting ash and smoke and rust. He remembers the Nothing Place; he dreams of it. He feels it so viscerally in the way he walks.

 

Nothing is there. There is no one to talk to.)

 

He wanders towards his apartment complex in Queens. When he reaches the building, the word CONDEMNED is spray-painted in bold letters. He hears someone screaming for help; it sounds like May, but she doesn’t exist anymore. He doesn’t, either. He turns to leave, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. No one is around to die. He passes by the victim, and he doesn’t see her.

 

When he looks down, he can see the faint outline of orange. It tinges his fingers, and Peter reaches with one hand to touch the other. He feels nothing. The hand passes through.

 

Everything in New York City is solid, he discovers. He presses his hand against the glass of the window to Little Guyana’s Bake Shop. It’s solid. Inside, he sees bread, but no people. He hears a dog bark. He smells bread, the first real smell since arriving to the Nothing Place.

 

When he turns to leave, he finds himself wondering how long he’s been here. One hour? Three days? A week? A month, a year, a lifetime?

 

Before him, the landscape changes, and he’s not trapped in New York City any longer. In front of him, he sees the alien spaceship, and he stumbles backwards at the sight. He sees Rhodey and Tony walking back towards the compound, and Peter squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to remember if any of the other Avengers are in the Nothing Place.

 

He remembers that Sam felt lost and alone, remembers Wanda’s relief and Quill’s gratefulness, remembers Bucky and a king. He doesn’t remember Cap, doesn’t remember the relief that would come from disappearing with his friends. He doesn’t remember Doctor Banner or Black Widow. Hawkeye didn’t stew in the Nothing Place. Even Thor exists outside of it. The original six are all alive, and Peter can only see one of them.

 

He follows Rhodey and Tony inside. He watches as Tony’s lips move, but no sound comes out.

 

(He remembers the silence. He watches their lips move, but he can’t hear a word they say.  _ Peter disappeared _ , Tony says, but Peter doesn’t hear it, even though he sees it. The silence engulfs him outside of the Nothing Place. Sound, touch, sight…they don’t exist. He’s been here long enough to know that they don’t. The taste burns his tongue.

 

He feels a tug in Tony’s direction, and he follows. He hears Tony’s sobs, but he doesn’t speak. Try, try again. The voices are empty. He’s trapped inside.)

 

Tony walks up the steps to what was supposed to be Peter’s room in the compound. The walls are painted jade green, and  _ Star Wars _ posters hang over his bed and desk. The books in the bookshelves are arranged by height. Tony sits on the bed and buries his head in his hands, and he sobs. Peter, out of pure instinct, reaches to comfort Tony. His hand passes through. Tony’s body jerks once as soon as contact is made.

 

(Hopelessness is too familiar. Parents die, Ben dies, a building crushes him, they lose a battle against a god. Try, try again, only to fail. Stand on shaky legs and stare Death in the face. You blink. Death doesn’t.

 

A warning. A promise. The blink does not guarantee death, but it warns of it. It dares Death to take you. One strike and you’re out. The warning is enough. He’s not dead. He will be.)

 

The orange tint stands out brighter now, and he shifts so that he can look out the window. The sun is setting back on Earth. It’s beautiful – the red and yellow, the promise of a new day and the blood of yesterday. Peter steps back from the window and looks around for a place to sit.

 

A snap. Ashes. The scene before him disappears, disappears, disappears. It’s not him disintegrating this time; it’s Tony. Tony’s gone, but he’s not clinging to anyone, he’s not begging for his life, he’s not apologizing. He’s strong where Peter wasn’t.

 

(Tony tells him later that he never died. He’s faced it before. He’s given up on life before. But, no, he’s never died. The ashes lie, the darkness lies. It’s all a jumble of lies, lies, lies. No truth anymore. No here nor there. Just places of existence or nonexistence. The Nothing Place or Earth. People are dead in both of them; there’s no difference anymore.)

 

The Nothing Place is a stark contrast to Earth. He feels the pain in these people’s souls. He hears their prayers. In some of them, he can see their faiths – different faiths shine in different colors, and the more they trust their faith, the brighter the light shines. Everyone has a color. He doesn’t know what orange means.

 

It’s cold where Earth was warm. Nothing is solid here. He passes through person after person, feels their fears and their thoughts. The cold reaches his soul. It scares him. He wants to go home, even though home doesn’t exist anymore.

 

(Die, die again. Try one time, three times, they won’t win. Try 140 million times. They won’t win. He won’t go home. Die, die again. Tony might win, might defeat Thanos. He’s still stuck here. He’s not coming back. Die, die again. Tony might lose in the second battle against Thanos. He might die, win or lose. He will die. He has nothing to live for.

 

Die, die again. No life, no liberty, no happiness. Life becomes death. Liberty becomes slavery. Happiness becomes despair.

 

Die, die again, and realize this is the only life you’ve ever had.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout to that M*A*S*H episode "Dreams." It's where I got the inspiration for the NYC sequence.


	4. Losing a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're a child, and you lose your parents, then you're an orphan. But what's the word for a parent who loses their child?
> 
> I guess it's too fucking awful to even have a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back on my shit, bitches! (You know I say that with the utmost love)
> 
> Okay, Tony is pretty suicidal and depressed in this chapter. If you think you might be triggered, please don’t read ahead.
> 
> So, uh, this chapter's going to have a different tone to it than the others. This isn't so much haunting as the last chapter was, but I need to get them to figure out a way to defeat Thanos, and well, life happens. Tony's grieving, Loki died for the 3rd time, it's all normal. I'm gonna try and make the next chapter Peter-centric or something or other (I really love the Nothing Place), and it'll be one or two more Tony-centric chapters before things start looking up.
> 
> Also, I'm not a parent so I actually have no idea what it actually feels like to actually lose a child and I pray to God I never have to find out.

Three weeks. He was gone for three weeks. They held a funeral for him.

 

Steve is the one who tells him this; Steve is the first to shake his hand and apologize for Siberia. Tony doesn’t care anymore; Siberia was a lifetime ago. His coffin is buried underneath a tree.

 

Tony tries not to grit his teeth.  _ Peter _ was the one who died;  _ Peter _ deserved a funeral.

 

(Even as he thinks it, he knows he wouldn’t have the strength to pay for it. It seems like an admission that Peter’s dead, that he’s not coming back.

 

A life for a life. Peter dies in Tony’s place. He clings to him and begs, begs not to go. A life for a life, and Tony wants the time stone, just so he can reverse time and save Peter. Not the world, not the universe. Just Peter.)

 

Rhodey takes a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “I didn’t – I had no idea you were alive.”

 

Tony breathes the ghost of a laugh. “You’re still stuck with me, bud. Sorry boutcha.”

 

Rhodey smiles. “I know, and I’m glad.”

 

Tony can feel the other Avengers’ eyes boring into the back of his skull. They all lost someone, and they all thought he would be lost, too. He’s alive. They’re not that lucky.

 

(He’s not that lucky.)

 

Tony lolls his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” he says.

 

Rhodey clenches his jaw and nods. He makes no effort to correct Tony, to tell him that he is home. He knows. Home is familiarity. Home is normal. Home is a life they won’t ever have again.

 

Home is the lab with Peter and Rhodey, laughing and joking. Home is covering Peter with a blanket when he falls asleep doing homework. Home is pineapple pizza even though he hates pineapple pizza. Home is watching Star Wars for the upteenth time even though he can quote all of the movies word for word at this point.

 

(But home is gone now, he realizes. The lab is empty, laughs are forced. Blankets are too cold, too hot. Pineapple pizza tastes like blood, and Star Wars is more than just a movie. Home left when Peter disappeared.)

 

A snap. It was enough to destroy everything Tony had ever lived for. In some sick, twisted way, Tony starts laughing. “It’s reality,” he explains. Every time he starts to recover, every time he takes care of himself, every time he hates himself just a little bit less, someone snaps their fingers and reality sets in.

 

(You keep breathing because it’s seared into your brain. You want to stop. You want to lie down and die, but your body won’t let you. You think sleep might help, but your body won’t let you do that, either. Your body wants to suffer. You want to suffer before you die. This is depression.)

 

Rhodey steps away from him as they enter the compound. He sticks close to Tony’s side, his hand hovering over Tony’s back as Tony makes his way to Peter’s room.

 

“What are you doing, Tones?”

 

Tony stops and turns around. He doesn’t have the strength to get mad at Rhodey. Rhodey is one of the last people he has left. His shoulders sag, and he leans against the wall. “Peter disappeared,” he says.

 

Rhodey blinks. He licks his lips and pulls Tony into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

(Rhodey loved him too. Everyone loved him. Rhodey thinks he’s dead. Tony won’t admit it. He can’t.

 

He breathes because he’s used to it. He pushes on because there are more people he’s responsible for. Their blood is still on his hands. He’s given them his blood, his sweat, his tears. What more do they want?)

 

“You need to tell his aunt.”

 

Tony pulls away and looks at Rhodey sadly. He has no words. “I can’t,” he finally whispers.

 

Rhodey searches his eyes and nods. “Okay. When you’re ready.” With that, he turns and walks back down the stairs.

 

Tony stands in front of Peter’s room. There’s a poster on the door. He reads it. He can’t remember what it says. Something about it causes him to hurt, and he pushes the door open. After he walks through the door, he realizes that the poster was of  _ Star Wars _ .

 

(He says it’s not just a movie anymore, not because it’s  _ that _ good, but because of the fight against Thanos. A war was waged. There were casualties on both sides. A kid got caught in the crossfires. He failed.

 

It’s always the little things, he realizes. The way Coulson’s vintage Captain America cards were stained with his blood, the way two children had to stare one of his bombs in the face, trembling as they waited for it to go off.

 

But, really, it’s most painful to realize that Peter begged not to go – dying, dying, dead, and he only ever begged to stay.)

 

The lights in the room are turned off, and Tony soaks up the darkness. Here, he can’t see Peter’s books lying scattered across his desk, the scrawled handwriting in his notes, the dirty socks piled in the corner. He turns, noticing the bed for the first time, and he lowers himself onto the mattress.

 

Peter’s gone.

 

(Dead, gone, disappeared – the words all mean the same thing, don’t they?)

 

He buries his face in his hands and chokes out a sob. His heart tears in half, and he feels the overwhelming pain, the overwhelming heartbreak. The pain stabs his hands, his legs, his lungs. He shakes, and he cries.

 

(You know what it’s like losing a child? It’s watching everything and everyone you ever loved burn in front of you, even when you know you could have helped them. It’s praying and pleading that time can be turned back, but time has stopped.

 

You know what it’s like losing a child? Your body tears itself in half, breaking apart, as if it can’t bear to live any longer. You agree. The other part of your brain does not.

 

You know what it’s like losing a child? It’s gray and bleak and painful. Life ends when they’re lost. Cold poison runs through your veins, and you simply wait for it to kill you.)

 

He feels empty, but there’s so much grief, so much heartache. The tears run hot and fast down his face, and he chokes on a sob.

 

His body jerks once, randomly. His shoulder feels cold. He doesn’t care.

 

Thanos won.

 

\---

 

The next morning, he drags himself out of Peter’s bed. He doesn’t want to leave, not necessarily, but he needs to eat and shower and brush his teeth. This room is a reminder, and he needs to forget.

 

He’s about to pour himself a cup of coffee when he remembers how Peter always refused it, always balked at the smell. At first, Tony just thought it was overwhelming, but then Peter wrinkled his nose and said, quote, “Coffee is the devil’s piss.”

 

Tony sets down the coffee pot and opens the refrigerator, pulling out the bottle of apple juice. He brings it over to the table and sits down.

 

Steve walks into the kitchen next. He opens his mouth to say sorry, though sorry for  _ what _ , Tony can’t tell, but he closes his mouth and turns to make some toast.

 

Over the next hour, the remaining Avengers congregate in the kitchen and Tony suddenly is overwhelmed by the limited room, and he just wants some fresh air. Rhodey and Bruce situate themselves on either side of them, and Tony ducks his head and pokes at his toast.

 

“I feel really, really cold,” he mentions. It was the same cold as last night, when he was alone in Peter’s room.

 

Rhodey purses his lips and nods to the toast. “You need to eat something, Tones.”

 

Tony huffs and pushes his plate back. “No, it’s just – you don’t understand, I  _ can’t _ eat.”

 

“I know you’re grieving,” Rhodey says, gently reaching for the plate and pulling it back towards Tony, “but this isn’t going to bring him back.”

 

Steve looks up from the book he’s been reading (of  _ course _ he’s reading a book, it’s not like reality has been  _ shattered _ or anything). “He’s right, Tony. We need a plan.”

 

Tony glares at Rhodey and takes a bite out of the toast. It’s burnt and plain, and he wants to throw up. “I’ll give you a plan, Cap. We accept our losses.”

 

“Tony –” Rhodey warns.

 

“No, I mean it. How are we expecting to beat that? I don’t. We lost the battle, the war, the endgame. I don’t know  _ how _ you expect us to win now, now that we’ve lost so many teammates and friends.”

 

(He doesn’t say “family.” The word doesn’t stop on his lips. It doesn’t break his heart to remember a dream about a kid, only to wake up and realize the dream was real.

 

Only he lost him.)

 

“We’ve got you, don’t we?” Steve offers the hint of a smile, but Tony just scoffs and shakes his head.

 

“Don’t give me that bull _ shit _ ,” he spits.

 

Nebula has been watching the interaction. “Listen, I know most of you don’t trust me, but I think I can help.”

 

The Avengers look to her.

 

“He had the soul stone. Gamora – my sister – never made it back.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Natasha asks.

 

Thor holds up a hand. “No, she has a point. The soul stone demands a sacrifice: the soul of the person you most love in order for you to wield it.”

 

Bruce furrows his brow. “So Gamora was the person he loved most? That doesn’t make sense.”

 

Rhodey shakes his head. “No, it does.” He looks over to Nebula. “Are you saying that Thanos actually wasn’t worthy to wield the gauntlet?”

 

She nods. “There was a reason that the sorcerer was willing to trade the Time Stone for the Man of Iron.” She looks at him sadly. “You suffered the sacrifice.”

 

It’s too much for him. He pushes away from the table, his chair scratching against the tile. “I can’t handle this,” he mutters.

 

Steve reaches for him, but Tony shakes his head. “No, I gave up so much defending the earth. I’m tired. I’ve lost so many people, and I don’t want to lose anymore. You want to defeat Thanos with this method, then go right ahead. I’m not stopping you. I’m just not gonna be the one to do it.”

 

He leaves before he hears Nebula say “it can only be him,” before Steve asks who Tony lost. Tony takes the stairs three at a time until he’s pushing his way back into Peter’s room. He pitches forward, trying to keep his emotions at bay, but a broken scream tears from his throat.

 

(It’s more than Atlas, he realizes. Atlas only had to bear the burden of the world. He has to give up a child to save the universe.

 

He’s on his knees now, begging to breathe, begging for relief, and the universe only piles more on top of him. A sacrifice. A choice. To live or to die, to save one or to save billions.

 

It’s a burden no mortal human was ever meant to bear, and for some reason, he has been chosen for this. His sacrifice was losing a child.)

 

He shoves his fist in his mouth, bites down hard on his knuckles. It hurts, and he can feel the skin breaking, but it’s worth it, worth it as long as it gets his mind off Peter.

 

(To live is to lose. To live is to be vulnerable, to hurt, to feel things so  _ viscerally _ that you can’t survive, but you do. You live and breathe, but your body doesn’t realize that it’s already died. You’ve lost everyone you ever cared about. The poison is running through your blood, and it doesn’t kill you fast enough.)

 

\---

 

Rhodey knocks on the door, not bothering to wait for Tony’s small “come in” before he pushes it open. Tony is curled into the fetal position, and he feels like he’s drowning. He’s drowned before, right? This doesn’t feel too different.

 

Rhodey sighs and gently lowers himself so that his back is pressing against Peter’s bed. “It has to be you, Tones.”

 

Tony breathes in sharply and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “ _ Why _ ? Why me? Why not Thor or Steve? They’ve lost –” His breath shudders, and he suddenly gets the feeling that he is most certainly  _ not _ strong enough. “They’ve lost just as much as I have,” he whispers.

 

Rhodey rests his head against the top of the mattress and shakes his head. “Losing a friend or a brother doesn’t carry the same weight.” He sniffs and straightens so that he’s looking Tony in the eyes. “Tell me the truth, Tony, if it came down to saving me or the kid, who would you save?”

 

He can’t answer that question. He doesn’t want to. Everything in him screams Peter, but he loves Rhodey, Rhodey’s been his best friend since college, Rhodey saved him when he was holding onto life by a thread –

 

“Tony.” There’s his voice, gentle and firm. “Be honest with me.”

 

Tony shakes his head and chokes out a sob. “Peter,” he gasps. “I’d save Peter.”

 

“Between Pepper or Peter?”

 

“Peter,” Tony rasps, pressing his hands even further into his eyes. Pink and orange spot his vision, vibrant against his eyelids. He feels someone’s hands wrap around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his eyes.

 

Rhodey’s there, and Rhodey’s gaze is so intense that Tony jerks his hands, tries to press them back into his eyes, but Rhodey’s there and his grip is firm. “Peter or your mother?”

 

Tony’s face contorts in pain. “Peter,” he whispers, “always Peter.”

 

Rhodey presses his lips tightly together and pulls Tony close to him. “It has to be you, Tones. It has to be you.”

 

Tony can only cry.

 

(That’s all his life has ever been, hasn’t it? Watch the soldiers die, save the world. Carry a nuke into space to save the world, only to die. Confront a terrorist, watch Pepper, Rhodey, Peter fall, hold up a city and a moon, but all that keeps happening is death. Red, dark, black. That’s all there is. One death, two, ten, 3 billion, it doesn’t stop. It never stops.

 

It’s him. It has to be him. Atlas didn’t have this problem.

 

But Tony is not Atlas. He is Tony Stark, and for some reason, the universe has deemed him stronger than Atlas.)

 

“Oh, God,  _ why _ ?” he gasps.

 

“Because Thanos gave up his child for power, and you did everything you fucking could to keep yours. That’s why.”

 

He shakes his head, his tears staining Rhodey’s shirt, and he suddenly feels very small. “I’m not strong enough. I  _ can’t _ .”

 

“Something tells me you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Comment, porfa! My ask box is always open @ my-glasses-are-dirty on tumblr!


	5. And Then There Was One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares death in the eyes, and he’s not backing down. Caught in a staring contest. Blink and you miss. Blink and you die.
> 
>  
> 
> Blink and you go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just. So tired. Oh my word. Just. No, okay? I can't even anymore.
> 
> Side note: the next fic I'll update besides this one is either _No Mountain You Won't Climb Up_ or _History Has Its Eyes on You_. Beware.

He curls into a corner and he tries to breathe. The air is stale and dusty, and he tries to forget why. The Place is dark and the glows have all but died. He can see nothing, nor can he hear anything. The thoughts of his comrades are jumbled together to make a screaming mess. Occasionally, he hears shrieks and pleas, but he never once hears anything of substance. It’s screaming, screaming, screaming.

 

It’s like living in hell.

 

But hell is supposed to be burning hot, but this, this is so cold and it crawls up his spine, and he chokes out a sob because he’s shivering so much.

 

He’s not sure what he did to deserve this. All he knows is that he’s here.

 

In a moment of mercy, the scene before him disintegrates – he feels the Nothing Place crumble into ash, and the sterile white lights of the Avengers Compound blind his eyes. He shakes his head and watches as Tony shuffles through seemingly random papers. He takes another step forward, and he’s able to identify them as his notes.

 

(This is the real tragedy, he decides.)

 

Tony’s body stiffens, and he seems to sigh before reaching for a notepad. He clicks the pen right next to him and scribbles something on it, holding it over his shoulder.

 

**_PLAN TO BEAT THANOS_ **

**_1._ **

 

Peter stumbles backwards.

 

(When he tells Tony about this, after he comes back, Tony furrows his eyes in confusion and tells him that he was talking to Pepper. It never happened in the Nothing Place. Peter never knew about it.

 

Yet, somehow, he did.)

 

There’s nothing else on the paper, and Tony tosses the notepad to the other side of the lab table. He keeps reading through Peter’s notes, and Peter wants to  _ scream _ at him, wants to shake him and tell him his notes serve no use.

 

Tony perks up at one particular part and reaches for the notepad. Peter takes a step forward and peers over his shoulder. It’s an equation, one that was in his theoretical physics notes (not that he ever  _ expected _ them to be useful in the future). Tony looks up at the ceiling, opens his mouth, and says something. Peter can’t hear him. He can’t even see what Tony’s saying. He’s too late. The lab disintegrates in his hand.

 

Peter shakes his head in confusion, watching the ashes crumble from his fingertips. This isn’t– no.

 

Before he can make much sense of the situation, a formidifying figure steps forward.

 

Peter doesn’t need to see his face. He doesn’t even need his spidey senses. He knows who it is immediately, and he scrambles backwards as fast as he can. “Get away from me!”

 

Thanos doesn’t stop. His steps speed up, and Peter’s not fast enough to escape him. Thanos reaches out and grabs Peter’s arm.

 

Peter bats at Thanos’s hand, trying to push him away. “Get  _ away, _ get  _ away!” _

 

“I admire your optimism.”

 

Peter closes his eyes and turns his head away from Thanos. He flinches when he feels Thanos touch his hair with his other hand. “Please don’t.”

 

“Insects are annoying, I must admit. But you…you are the only one that has a connection to the outside world.” Thanos continues to stroke Peter’s hair, even though Peter bites his lip and clenches his fists. “You’re smart. It’s something that you get from Stark. Given enough time…” He chuckles and grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair. Peter clenches his teeth. Thanos leans forward until he’s eye level with Peter. “You could escape the soul stone.”

 

Peter pushes against Thanos, though it doesn’t do anything. “Get  _ away _ from me.”

 

(He stares death in the eyes, and he’s not backing down. Caught in a staring contest. Blink and you miss. Blink and you die.

 

Blink and you go home.)

 

Thanos pulls Peter’s hair, forcing him to walk forward. “You deserve  _ some _ sort of punishment, you tiny spider.”

 

Peter stumbles forward, both hands on Thanos’s wrist as he tries to physically force Thanos off of him. He’s too weak.

 

(He remembers this, when he returns. He remembers the feeling of utter helplessness, even worse than when he clung to Tony on that planet all those years ago. He remembers the desperate need to escape, to  _ die _ in order to get away from Thanos.

 

During those nights, May and Tony and MJ and Ned pull him close and whisper that he’s safe now. It doesn’t stop him from lying awake, staring at the ceiling, begging for relief but never meeting it. He’s drowning on dry ground, and he feels the water and dirt rushing into his throat, covering him with dust. He’s dying, yesterday and today and in the future.

 

He will never be free.)

 

Thanos closes his fist, and a cage appears out of the dust. “As punishment,” he says, throwing Peter into the cage, “you will have to watch your heroes  _ fail.” _

 

Peter scrambles to get up. He doesn’t bother to break out of the prison. “What do you mean – Ton– they  _ won’t _ fail.” He shakes his head, curling his fingers around the cold metal bars. “They can’t fail.”

 

Thanos kneels, plastering a smile on his face. “And why do you say that?”

 

Peter shakes his head again and backs away.

 

Thanos bangs on the cage. “You will be forced to hear their screams, you’ll have to watch as they tear each other apart, and best of all, you will have to watch as they  _ die _ in front of you, and you will be helpless to stop it.”

 

Peter clenches his jaw. “Go away,” he grits.

 

Thanos disappears, and the scene at the compound reappears.

 

And then he hears it.

 

The heart-clenching, blood-curdling sound of screaming.

 

(He understands, now. Why the dead pity the living. The living continue to grieve, continue to survive, but they are forever tormented. The only relief comes with death.

 

Screaming, screaming, crying, begging, and it’ll never be successful. The heart rips into shreds. You drown in your tears. Your screams beg to kill you.

 

And you still keep pushing forward.)

 

Peter staggers backwards into one corner of his prison and collapses.

 

Thanos is right.

 

Given enough time, he’ll escape the soul stone. And Thanos just handed him time on a silver platter.

 

\---

 

Peter’s not at the same angle anymore, so he can’t see what Tony’s doing, but he has learned Tony’s tells. Drumming fingers on the table = figuring it out. Leaning back against his chair = hit a roadblock.

 

None of it helps him. None of it will save him.

 

(He’s lost. Dead to the world. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, Tony will call up Aunt May and tell her that Peter died. He’s doomed here until time runs out.  _ Tick, tick, tock, _ and all time stops.)

 

He knows when the days change. Months go by, and it’s always the same picture, but slowly, things begin to change. He still sees Tony, still sees him hovering over the lab table, but Bruce joins him. Rhodey sits across from him. Thor sharpens his axe. The blue lady draws up plans.

 

The blue lady also explains how a soul can escape the soul stone.

 

(He lies awake at night, remembering that. He didn’t have time to ask her how she knew; she disappeared before he could ask. Tony claps him on the shoulder and pretends to be confused when Peter asks about it.)

 

The screams of the living slowly die out, but the screams of those trapped in the Nothing Place continue to haunt him.

 

He hears Michelle’s screams.

 

Somehow, hers are always the ones to reach him, and he curls into himself, covering his ears with his hands, but he can still hear her. They come from inside. No matter how much he covers his ears, no matter how much he tries to silence them, her screams rush through his blood.

 

He expected her to be angry. He doesn’t expect her to be scared.

 

He trembles in his spot in the corner. Her screams are screams of pain, of anguish and turmoil and death. His hands shake and he presses his trembling hands to his mouth. He tries to cry. No tears come out.

 

(And this is why, he knows, the living pity the dead. Hell isn’t a burning fire. It’s bone-piercing cold and the screams of the innocent. Hell breathes on his skin and sets it on fire with its ice-cold breath. Hell curls a black finger around a strand of his hair and whispers. It sounds like a scream.

 

He begs God for forgiveness, and if not forgiveness, he begs for death. Mercy.

 

He’s still here, and Hell presses a kiss on his cheek.)

 

_ Peter _ , Michelle begs.  _ Peter, please, please be alive. _

 

He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists.  _ I’m here, too, _ he tells her.  _ I’m stuck here, too. _

 

Now, though,  _ now _ he experiences her rage. She screams, and it’s guttural and animalistic as she curses the titan, curses him for being everything wrong with the world. She gives Peter a splitting headache, and his back digs into one of the bars. It’s the only real thing he can feel in the Nothing Place. He doesn’t care about the pain. He just wants to know that he’s not in hell.

 

The conversations draw to a halt. One by one, the Avengers fade.

 

(First, it’s Thor, in the middle of sharpening his axe. He smiles around the others, or he used to, but now, rage boils behind his eyes and lightning twitches from his fingers. The axe crumbles into ash before Thor does, and Thor seems to realize his fate.

 

Ten little Avengers, ready to die. One disappeared, as lightning flashed behind his golden eye. Ten little Avengers, one flashed out of breath, and then there were nine.)

 

Bugs race up and down his arms, and he jerks against their phantom legs. They crawl down his spine, and he shudders, trying to get them away from him. They come for him in multitude. They keep coming, climbing down his throat. He claws at the skin on his throat, trying to get rid of them.

 

Good thing there’s no skin left for him to damage.

 

(It’s Ant-Man next. He sits in a corner of the lab, continually running his fingers over a small necklace that looked like it belonged to a little girl once. He doesn’t look up for much; only when he hears Tony ask for him. He mourns for Cassie, asks that she be safe.

 

Nine little Avengers, ready to die. One prayed for his daughter, a whisper, a cry. Nine little Avengers, one disappeared, and then there were eight.)

 

The temperature plummets. His limbs stiffen, and he can hardly straighten his fingers. The Avengers are disappearing at an alarmingly rapid rate. Thanos is right. They’re failing. The temperature drops again. He throws up. His body is giving up.

 

They need to win. He needs to get back to the others in the Nothing Place, needs to devise a plan to get home.

 

(The third one to go is the blue woman. The unmistakable sound of a clock ticks as her time runs out. She doesn’t help him anymore. She doesn’t help anyone. He hears her grief in her heartbeat. When she disappears, she’s filled with anger. Not love or relief. Anger.

 

Eight little Avengers, ready to die. One remained silent, not so much as a sigh. Eight little Avengers, one crumbled to dust, and then there were seven.)

 

He rolls onto his back. He feels paralyzed. His body feels like it’s pinned down by rocks, but he can’t move them. His strength has faded. He strains against the phantom weights, but he can’t move. The Nothing Place closes around him, and the air surrounding him feels hot and humid.

 

The weight it takes to breathe is more than the weight pinning him down.

 

(Rhodey offers comfort. He walks into the lab early in the morning, before the sun even has a thought of rising. He presses his back to one of the lab tables, hand wrapped around a cup of tea.  _ You should go to sleep, Tones, _ he whispers. His hand reaches for Tony’s shoulder. It crumbles to ash.

 

Seven little Avengers, ready to die. One offers comfort, doesn’t say goodbye. Seven little Avengers, one faded to dust, and then there were six.)

 

The screams die out at once. Peter sits up, trying to make sense of it. He tilts his head to the side and licks his lips. The screams of the tormented have silenced, and the silence causes him to tremble more than the screams ever did. The silence is out of place, but it’s so, so  _ fitting _ because there’s  _ nothing _ anymore. The Nothing Place has swallowed everything whole.

 

He’s alone here.

 

(Clint perches on top of the couch. He doesn’t say much to anyone. He stares into the space in front of him, and he swallows behind the knot in his throat. He lost his family. He lost everything. Only he is left to avenge his family. He tosses a rolled up straw wrapper into the trash bin and fades to black.

 

Six little Avengers, ready to die. One crumbled to ash, without so much a question of why. Six little Avengers, one disappeared, and then there were five.)

 

His eyes are colored with rage the color of red. It courses through his blood, and he releases a guttural scream, anger pouring from within. He curses the world for taking his parents and Uncle Ben and, in the end, him. He throws himself against the bars of the cage. He wants to rip Thanos apart, rip him to shreds.

 

He’ll do it, too, piece by bloody piece.

 

(Dr. Banner helps Tony run experiments involving the formulas scribbled on the boards. In between these trials, he plays with a string over by a different lab table. He glances over his shoulder and opens his mouth to offer Tony some comfort, but shakes his head before he can do so.

 

Five little Avengers, ready to die. One hid in the corner, always so shy. Five little Avengers, one blinked out of life, and then there were four.)

 

His lungs shudder, and he turns his head to cough. His coughs are violent, and he finds himself lowering himself to the ground so that there’ll be something stable for him. Blood drips from his lips – not globs of blood, just a couple of specks here and there. He holds out a shaking hand, comparing the crimson red drops coupled with his saliva to the dirt in the Nothing Place.

 

He feels so weak.

 

(Steve combs through book after book. When he finds nothing in any of his books, he growls and leaves for Peter’s room. With Tony’s permission, he picks out some fiction books and peruses each one. Occasionally, he’ll write something that seems to be of some sort of substance to pass on to Tony later. The pen clatters to the table. It doesn’t have an owner.

 

Four little Avengers, ready to die. One dropped his pen, preparing to write. Four little Avengers, one choked on dust, and then there were three.)

 

He steps away from the compound. Something coats his palms, and he looks down. His hands are sticky, and for a second, he hopes that it’s because of his spider senses, but then the sticky substance dries and he takes a closer look. It’s blood. He has blood on his hands.

 

It won’t scrub off.

 

(Natasha waits in the living room for any updates. She tries out her updated Widow’s bites, but beyond that, she doesn’t find much else to do. She takes some of Peter’s history notes and reads through them. A piece of paper flutters to the ground.

 

Three little Avengers, ready to die. One dropped her paper, the assassin, the spy. Three little Avengers, one left the world, and then there were two.)

 

Something’s happening.

 

He looks down at his hands, watches as they break apart into specks of dust.  _ It’s happening again. _

 

Peter looks up with wide eyes filled with terror. No. No, this can’t be happening. What more could go wrong? What other punishment could he serve? He’s already in hell.

 

His body folds itself into dust, but the pull feels different than before. It pulls him away from the Nothing Place instead of towards it. Where Titan was painful, this is hopeful. Where Titan tore him apart, this is trying to piece him together.

 

(As he crumbles into ash, his eyes catch one last sight of the lab: Okoye stands by Tony’s side, and she disappears, spear in hand. She’s not in the Nothing Place.

 

Two little Avengers, ready to die. One left with him, looking up to the sky. Two little Avengers, one grabbed his hand.

 

And then there was one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to upload anything for at least a week due to church camp, so I hope y'all enjoy!!


	6. I Loved, and I Loved, and I Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always whispers tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll make a trip to May’s apartment and tell her. Tomorrow he’ll begin to pack Peter’s things. Tomorrow he’ll start to recover.
> 
> Tomorrow has come, and his heart breaks even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo church camp actually felt like 8 years. I'm not kidding, I felt like I was in college. The food sucked. I couldn't write. On the plus side, my youth minister is hilarious and also he made fun of me for losing my voice. Life is great, guys. I haven't slept. I'm great, it's good, I'm fine. (What is insomnia, guys? Do I have it? I have nO cLuE, my dUdEs.)
> 
> I'm actively writing chapters to my three other main WIPs. There's about one or two more chapters until Peter's brought back, but well. Life.

“Tony.”

 

He tenses but refuses to turn around. He can’t look her in the eyes because that conversation, the last face-to-face conversation they had before he left for space, keeps playing in his mind.

 

( _ I dreamt we had a kid. We named him after your eccentric uncle…Morgan. I dreamt we had a kid. It was so real. _

 

A kid fell into his arms, pleading and crying with a broken voice, begging him to fix it. Not Morgan. Peter.)

 

“Tony, what are you doing down here?”

 

He sighs and reaches for the notepad lying in the corner of the lab table. He clicks a pen and scribbles, in all capital letters:

**_PLAN TO DEFEAT THANOS_ **

**_1._ **

 

There’s nothing else. He doesn’t know what he can do. Peter’s physics notes are scattered all across the lab table, and boxes of Tony’s own college notes have been dragged into the lab. He holds the notepad over his shoulder long enough for Pepper to read it before he tosses it back into its original corner.

 

She takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around him. “Who did you lose?” She moves so that she’s carding one hand through his hair.

 

“Peter.” He doesn’t want to answer her, but that name is always at the tip of his tongue, always ready to be heard because he’s so used to it. He’s so used to the days that Peter was sitting in the lab, perched on one of the tables as he shouted out random problems he needed help with.

 

(And Tony couldn’t help him with his biggest problem.  _ I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please, please, I don’t wanna go _ and Tony could only watch as a boy crumbled into ash in his very arms.)

 

He dips his head and shakes it. “He begged me– he begged me to help him.” Tony waves a hand in the air. The lab is lit only by one small light bulb. Darkness curls around him and embraces him. “I’ve never– he sounded so  _ young. _ Like he was just–” Tony twists so that he’s looking Pepper in the eyes. “He was just a boy.”

 

Pepper presses her lips together, and her eyes are rimmed with red.

 

(She loved Peter like her own son. She made him soup on the days he was sick, helped him write his Spanish essays. He once dragged her to the couch to watch  _ Star Wars _ with him and Tony, and she stayed up to watch, despite saying no to Tony earlier. She took him to ice cream shops, taught him how to make good presentations.

 

She loved, and loved, and lost. Just like Tony. Just like everyone else.)

 

Pepper doesn’t speak for a long time. She doesn’t have the voice to, if Tony had to guess. Finally, she takes a trembling breath and says, “Do you want me to tell May?”

 

Tony shakes his head and leans back into his chair. “No.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Pete was my responsibility. It’s only fair.”

 

Pepper nods and continues to run her fingers through Tony’s hair. “Do you want me to go with you?”

 

Tony pauses. When he closes his eyes, he can see May waiting anxiously for her nephew to come home. Missing an arm, missing a leg, having lost comrades in arms, and that won’t matter for her as long as he  _ comes back. _ He can see her waiting on the couch with the lamp turned on, getting up occasionally to make a cup of tea or rearrange books on the bookshelf or straighten the vase filled with fake flowers. When it’s Tony who comes through that door, she’ll know.

 

He sighs and pulls Pepper towards him. “Please,” he whispers.

 

(He’s a man with a voice that carries. He has a bright smile, a booming voice. People hurry to listen to him, work to imitate him. They don’t see this side of him. The side that, when all is said and done, is reduced to a whisper. It’s the only voice he has left, the only part of him that has decided not to break.)

 

Pepper nods, and he feels her chin on his head. “Promise me one thing,” she says, stepping away from him and kissing his head.

 

“Anything.” He offers her a watery smile.

 

(What else can he lose, he thinks.)

 

“Bring him back home.”

 

It suddenly feels like there’s a rock in his throat, hard and bulging. He tries to swallow around it, but the effort only leaves him with blurred vision. “Always.”

 

\---

 

He always whispers  _ tomorrow. _ Tomorrow he’ll make a trip to May’s apartment and tell her. Tomorrow he’ll begin to pack Peter’s things. Tomorrow he’ll start to recover.

 

Tomorrow has come, and his heart breaks even more.

 

It’s still early in the morning, and Tony hasn’t slept since Titan. He can’t. Every time he tries to sleep, he hears a child, a young boy, crying for his help, and he rushes forward, rushes to help, but he’s always too late, always has to watch his son die. Sometimes his son falls. Other times he bleeds to death.

 

Other times, he crumbles into ash.

 

Most of Peter’s notes prove to be unfruitful, as most of them have to do with basic physics. Tony has learned to look at the heading, and he finds binder clips to organize Peter’s notes for him.

 

Peter, however, has always been a certified nerd. Tony has known this. Rhodey has known this. Happy, Pepper, and May have all known this. Which means, deep in the stacks of paper, Peter has taken notes from seminars that Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy have taken him to.

 

Tony finally hits the jackpot with a Dr. Drake Dodson, a theoretical physicist from Stanford University. Rhodey had caught wind that Dodson was giving a seminar in Albany, and he had convinced May to let Peter go. Peter, as expected, took thorough notes.

 

Tony skims through the scrawled handwriting, picking apart relatively helpful bits and pieces, but not much seems to apply until he reaches an equation. Peter made sure that he could read the formula, seeing as how it’s written neatly.

 

Tony reaches for the notepad and scribbles the equation onto the paper.

 

“Boss, it is now 6:15. You asked me to inform you of the time so that you could get ready for your meeting with May Parker.”

 

Tony sighs, clicks the pen, and tosses the pen and pad onto the lab table. “Yeah, FRI. Gimme a sec, okay? I just– I gotta get some air.”

 

There’s a framed photograph that sits on Tony’s lab table. MJ gave it to him for his birthday last year. It’s a picture of Peter lying on his back, holding a broken lightsaber in one hand and a fully functioning one in the other. His face is bright and happy and alive.

 

(That’s the real tragedy, Tony decides. Not that Peter left, but that Peter was once alive with vibrant eyes. In his final moments, the life behind his eyes died.

 

He was a child, scared for his life.)

 

Tony looks up to the ceiling. “Please, bring him back to me.”

 

When no one dares to answer him, he sighs heavily and gets up to take a shower.

 

\---

 

He’s not sure how people managed to clean up the roads so quickly. People worked efficiently, and he sees this as Pepper drives them to May’s apartment.

 

He never lets people drive him anywhere. It’s a habit of his. He drives, he even  _ paid _ Happy to just sit in the passenger seat. The last time he didn’t sit behind the wheel, Peter sat next to him, making a little video diary.

 

His body trembles today. He took one glance at his hands after his shower earlier this morning, and his hands shook so violently that Pepper gave him a soft look and grabbed the keys.

 

He looks at his hands again. He can  _ feel _ the electricity shooting up and down his arms, causing earthquakes in the small bones of his hands, feel the way his hands dip and tremble. It’s not a pleasant feeling. He curls both hands into fists and pulls them close to his chest.

 

New York City, as expected, has suffered substantial damage but nothing more than the Chitauri attack in 2012. The city is decidedly more empty than it had been 6 years ago, and Tony hates thinking about the reason, hates  _ knowing _ the reason as well as he knows it. He hates the sight of teenagers walking to school, sobbing into their jackets and hands because they lost a friend. He  _ hates _ that school is still in session, and it’s not because the American education system is broken (though, according to Peter, it truly is), but because it provides a distraction from the horrors of the most recent loss. Family members disappeared, and others likely committed suicide, not realizing that there was a chance.

 

(How close was  _ he, _ Tony wonders.)

 

There isn’t a soul that isn’t grieving. Adults shut themselves off from the world, and Tony hates that he knows what that feels like, hates that he did it himself on countless occasions.

 

(An alien attack, and subsequent nightmares. Fire erupting next to him, hot and bullet-filled. Freezing water, metal swirling around in his mouth. A sentient robot hell bent on world domination, and the taste of death close. A teenager, stumbling into his arms, pleading  _ I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please, please, I don’t wanna go, _ and that same teenager crumbling into ash in his very hand.

 

Each night grew darker than the night before. Stars became nightmares, not lighthouses. Stardust tastes of ash and blood, not power and light. The stars dimmed, grew stronger. Time slipped from his fingers the same way Peter’s ashes did. He tries to hold on, and the clock keeps ticking.)

 

He hates the sight of Peter’s apartment building, old red bricks and a jammed door. He sits in the idling car for a minute, two, three, ten. He doesn’t have the courage to admit defeat, to look May in the eyes and tell her that Peter disappeared.

 

(He does deserve, he decides, to watch May grieve even as he himself won’t be allowed to. Peter was never his charge, never his to grieve for.

 

And yet, it hurts all the more that he won’t be able to.)

 

He takes a shaky breath and looks over to Pepper, who has been messing with the radio station as she’s waited. She settles on cheesy pop music from the 2010 era (he tries not to gag when “Call Me Maybe” comes on) and smiles gently at him. “When you’re ready,” she whispers.

 

(“I’m not,” he wants to whisper back, wants to press his trembling hands into his eyes, wants to kneel in front of his bed and beg a God he never believed in to bring Peter back.

 

“I’m not,” he wants to whisper, because he’s not ready, he’ll never be ready to admit a kid like Peter died.

 

“I’m not,” he wants to whisper, because he just lost a  _ child _ and that breaks him.)

 

He nods once. “Let’s go,” he says with the sort of fake confidence he’s put on before a crowd for years. Pepper sees right through it, not that he expected anything less of her, but she doesn’t comment on it as she follows him to the apartment doors. He has a master key, of course, but he instead buzzes May’s apartment and waits. Waits in agony for her to answer, to buzz him up, to demand where Peter is.

 

The front door unlocks, and Tony opens it, allowing for Pepper to enter the lobby first. There is no receptionist. At the desk, there’s a note scribbled by one of the residents:

**_Receptionist disappeared. Door’s open. Please be respectful. All of us are mourning._ **

 

Tony quirks an eyebrow and swallows. He gestures to the stairs, and at Pepper’s pointed glance to the elevator, he explains, “It hasn’t worked for months. I meant to work on it with –” The name stops on his tongue, and he swallows again, shaking his head. “There were other, more important matters to take care of.”

 

Pepper presses her lips together, as if she knows that Tony would give up everything to come to fix that elevator now, as long as Peter could be by his side, grinning from ear to ear as he hands Tony a screwdriver, a wrench, a hammer.

 

Tony leads the way up to May’s apartment, informing Pepper to watch out for spiders and roaches. He looks over his shoulder, a smile dancing on the corner of his lips, poised to tell a spider joke, when he remembers.

 

(He always forgets, just for a second. There’s always a second of hope where Peter’s alive, safe, and Tony never had to worry.

 

He always remembers at the worst time.)

 

Pepper squeezes his shoulder with one hand. “He wouldn’t want you to remember him this way.”

 

Tony shrugs, clouds storming in his eyes. “How can I remember him any other way,” he asks, “if I’m the one he turned to as he was dying?”

 

She has no answer.

 

Pepper asks to stop after the second flight of stairs, claiming that she’s out of shape. It’s odd, but Tony thinks nothing of it, instead allowing for a few minutes of rest. He’s in no hurry to admit the inevitable. He almost wants to beg Pepper to do it for him.

 

They climb the rest of the stairs (after two more rest stops) and Tony stares at the door to the Parkers’ apartment. It’s brown and old, the paint is peeling, and his hand is raised to knock and yet it trembles so much that he can’t touch it to the wood.

 

Pepper loops her arm through his left one. “Tony, she deserves to know.”

 

He nods, once, twice, before he finally gathers the courage to rap on the door. The door flies open almost immediately, and May stands before him, eyes brimming with tears. Her hair is unbrushed, her clothes are all wrinkled, and just beyond the door, he can see that she waited for Peter for weeks. A blanket covers the couch. The books have been rearranged, a kettle whistles, the fake flowers on the coffee table have been exchanged. She waited, and she hoped, and she prayed.

 

None of it was enough.

 

Her bottom lip trembles. “He disappeared, didn’t he?”

 

Tony almost can’t look her in the eyes, almost can’t say that one-syllabled word, but he swallows and maintains eye contact. “Yes.”

 

May chokes on a sob and steps aside to let them in. Pepper walks inside first, gently pulling Tony by the hand. “What happened to him?” May asks. Pepper turns her head to watch Tony. She heard the condensed version, but there’s more that Tony refuses to say.

 

“Can we sit down?” Tony stands a bit awkwardly. He’s wearing one of Rhodey’s shirts, and it’s too large for him. He twists his hands in the hem of the shirt, the same way Peter always did when he was nervous.

 

May considers for a moment before she gently lowers herself onto the couch. Pepper sits next to her. May gestures to one of the sitting chairs so Tony can sit down.

 

Tony scrubs a hand over his face. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Peter was supposed– supposed to go on a field trip the day Thanos attacked. He ditched the school bus and came to help once he saw the alien ship. I gave him a simple task: protect a sorcerer who possessed one of the infinity stones. Peter got beamed up –”

 

“What, like in Star Trek?” He can hear the acid in May’s voice now, and he braces himself against it.

 

“Yes, like in Star Trek. We were taken to a deserted planet, where we met a few…galactic vigilantes, for lack of a better term. Thanos came to us a little while later.” He chokes on his own saliva, not forgetting Strange’s warning. “We made a plan to defeat him when he came, and we almost beat him, but Thanos was…Thanos was stronger than us. Peter got caught up in helping our other teammates while I battled Thanos.”

 

May leans forward, massaging her left hand. “What does this have to do with Peter?”

 

Tony holds up a hand. “Thanos stabbed me. For some reason, that sorcerer decided to trade the infinity stone in his possession for my life. I don't know why. All I know is that Thanos got the stone as a result.”

 

“And…?”

 

“And sometime between that fight and the disappearances, Thanos got the last stone. Snapped his fingers. On that planet, all but one of the galactic vigilantes disappeared.”

 

May leans closer to him. “And Peter?”

 

_ Mr. Stark? _

 

No, no, no.

 

_ I don’t feel so good. _

 

Please just be something else, fear, grief, something.

 

_ I don’t– I don’t know what’s happening– _

 

Please, God, no.

 

_ I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark. _

 

I’ll fix this, I promise I’ll fix this.

 

_ Please, please. _

 

Please, God, please.

 

_ I don’t wanna go. _

 

Tony scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. He can feel tears pricking at the edges of his vision, can feel the rock settling in his throat. “And he begged me for his life. Felt it coming on, probably because of his spider senses. His legs were –” He runs a hand through his hair. “His damn legs were disintegrating, and his healing factor was trying to stitch him together. I was the only adult he knew, the only one he trusted on that planet. He turned to me and begged for his life, as if I could fix it. He begged for his life, and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.”

 

May stands up and stalks closer to him. He expects a slap, braces himself for it. Instead, she kneels before him and pulls him close to her. He hugs her, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. “Promise me,” she whispers, “you’ll bring him back.”

 

He nods. “I promise, May.”

 

He promises her because he never got to promise Peter.

  
_ You’re alright _ is all he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Please leave a comment or go to my tumblr, @ my-glasses-are-dirty


	7. I Will Fear No Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, surprisingly, brought his Bible. Tony wonders about it, but it’s Rhodey who asks Steve why he brought it. Steve smiles tiredly and flips the thin pages. “‘Yea, though I walk through the dark valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’” He shrugs. “At the end of the day, I’m still human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read an article about quantum physics, and the article said that POTENTIALLY, the future could affect the past, and I was just like. Whoa. Plot point.d
> 
> (Pls don't hurt me if this is inaccurate I don't know anything about physics.)

He wants Peter back.

 

More than anything, more than air or food or water, he wants Peter back. He wants to step back in time, steal the Time Stone from Strange, and offer it to Thanos, as long as Peter will be spared. He would travel the universe, tear it apart, rip it to shreds, if only it will bring Peter home.

 

(These are the things he decides late at night.)

 

He doesn’t know what to do. He has sat in front of a desk for days now, and his only break from the burnt lights and glass doors is Rhodey passing him a mug of green tea. Rhodey doesn’t usually say anything. He usually just leans against one of the tables and sips from his own mug in silence.

 

Tony sighs and tosses his pen onto the table. He’s hit a dead end. No matter how much he doesn’t want to, he stands, stretches, and walks up the stairs to the living room. Clint looks up first when he hears Tony’s steps.

 

(Clint showed up a couple of days ago. His voice was tight as he said, “All of them disappeared.” He watched it happen. He was holding his youngest son in his arms when Thanos snapped his fingers.)

 

Tony tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He scuffs the tip of his shoe against the rug. “I, um,” he says, scratching the tip of his nose with his finger, “I’m going to…” He looks up at the ceiling, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “I’m going to need your help. All of you.”

 

Nebula and Thor share a look, and Thor leans forward, folding his hands together. “Are you sure about this, Tony? We don’t know how to beat him.”

 

Tony sets his mouth in a hard line. “He killed Loki, didn’t he?” He stares at each of his team members in the eyes. “He took someone away from each of us. He took – he took my…he took a kid who was like a  _ son _ to me.” He licks his lips and sighs heavily. “I could tear Thanos apart limb by limb if it would bring Peter back. We all would, though maybe not for Peter. Just…I need your help.”

 

“Revenge isn’t pretty business, Stark,” Steve says, bookmarking his page in the book he’s been reading.

 

Tony lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Is this one of those things you think your Lord God should avenge?”

 

Steve hangs his head. “Tony,” he warns.

 

Clint taps the rubber eraser of a pencil against his leg. “I think Tony’s right. What else can  _ we _ lose?”

 

Steve looks up and purses his lips. “You could lose Pepper and Rhodes.”

 

Rhodey shakes his head. “I’d rather die trying to get that kid back than die knowing I could have at least tried to save him.”

 

Steve sighs. “What do you need us to do?”

 

\---

 

“Are you sure this will work, Tony?”

 

Tony pulls the welding helmet over his face. “Nope.” He doesn’t give himself enough time to even  _ think _ of the possibility that it won’t work. It has to work. They don’t have any other option.

 

He doesn’t have any other option.

 

Rhodey perches on top of one of the lab tables. “What about shrinking the space around an object? You’ll move faster than the speed of light.”

 

Bruce gawks at Rhodey. “What the– you can’t go faster than light. The speed of light is like– it’s like the universe’s speed limit!”

 

Tony grits his teeth and speaks over the sound of metal being welded together. With Nebula’s help, he’d been able to draw up blueprints of the alien spaceship. As of now, he’s trying to create a miniaturized version of it. “People go faster than the speed limit all the time.”

 

Bruce shuffles forward. “Yeah, but not the  _ universe’s _ speed limit. That’s impossible!”

 

“You know, Brucie, I might agree with you, but you have a serious case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and my favorite kid literally gained superhuman capabilities from a spider bite. I don’t think speeding in the universe is exactly that impossible.”

 

“How are you going to find the equation for warp speed? Even Peter didn’t come up with that equation, and he loves Star Trek.”

 

Tony stops welding and flips up the visor of his helmet. “Were you  _ Star Trekking _ me?”

 

Rhodey grins and shrugs. “Maybe.”

 

Tony smirks and shakes his head, pulling the visor down over his face. “I can’t believe you.”

 

(He stops himself from thinking that it was just like Peter – use a movie, defeat the enemy, move on.  _ Alien, Star Trek, _ an endless list of movies. He thought it was ridiculous.

 

Peter always knew it would work.)

 

Bruce sighs heavily. “I can call Shuri, see if she’ll know anything about the equation.”

 

Rhodey nods. “That seems fair. Here, I’ll come with you. Make sure you don’t bow.”

 

Bruce grumbles under his breath, “I hate you.”

 

Rhodey’s laughter rings throughout the lab.

 

\---

 

He drums his fingers on the table. He has everything he can to move forward, but that’s– he’ll lose. Again and again, until the breath dies from him, he’ll keep losing.

 

Steve barrels into the lab holding one of Peter’s books in his hand and a piece of paper in another. “Your kid is a genius,” he gasps.

 

Tony looks up and takes the sheet of paper Steve offers him. “I mean, yes, but again, he’s not…you know he’s not my kid, right?”

 

“Regardless.” Steve holds up the book in his hand. It’s a copy of  _ A Wrinkle in Time _ – it’s one of the many books written on a sticky note and sticking to Peter’s desk. MJ recommended it to Peter, even loaned him this copy. He must have forgotten to return it.

 

Steve drops the book on the lab table. “I noticed something in all of the books in Peter’s room. He loves sci-fi, and in almost all of those books, he had shoved a random sheet of notebook paper with notes all over them.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a dozen folded sheets of paper. Steve sets them on the table, smoothes them out, and steps back. “There are so many scientific theories surrounding each of these books. I guess he would always look it up or something because there is so much here that I wouldn’t even think could work but maybe…maybe it might.”

 

Tony scans the paper that came from  _ A Wrinkle in Time. _ “You know what, Steve?” he says. “I think you’re right.”

 

\---

 

Thor finds solace in the gym, Tony realizes. They’ve sparred, prepared in every which way to defeat Thanos. He sharpens his axe, waiting for the day that he can avenge his brother. Lightning sparks from his fingers, twitches in his hands. He’s biding his time.

 

Scott sits at the kitchen table, holding a necklace in his hand. He explained that it once belonged to his daughter, before Thanos snapped his fingers and took away Scott’s world. He kisses the pink charm and tucks the necklace into his pocket.

 

Nebula waits for the rest of them to file into the spacecraft. She’s explained the dials and settings to Bruce, Rhodey, and Tony, but primarily, she will run the controls. They’re heading back to Titan, and her only demand is to cut off Thanos’s head.

 

As Nebula takes off, Rhodey comes to stand next to Tony. He squeezes Tony’s shoulder. “We’ll get them back,” he says. “We’ll kill the bastard and we’ll get them all back.” Tony smiles and turns to hug Rhodey.

 

Clint fiddles with his arrows. With Bruce’s help, they had found a way to create stardust in a lab. The breath of a dying star melted into the tips of the arrows. Everyone’s armor is tinged with the heart of a dying star. Clint pulls back the string on his bow, tests its strength. He’ll take down Thanos if he’s the only one of them left.

 

Bruce walks around and passes the Avengers little watches. The watches are all set for the current date. Bruce holds up his hand and demonstrates how to attach the time machine. Once they reach Titan, the clock turns back and they have a limited amount of time.

 

(Those who have been lost won’t be able to come back, but the gauntlet will be there. Thanos will come after them. They’ll stand at the edge of Wakanda, and they will wreak havoc.)

 

Steve, surprisingly, brought his Bible. Tony wonders about it, but it’s Rhodey who asks Steve why he brought it. Steve smiles tiredly and flips the thin pages. “‘Yea, though I walk through the dark valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’” He shrugs. “At the end of the day, I’m still human.”

 

Natasha sits close to Steve. Her body language is new – she’s scared, and this time, she can’t play off that fear. Her closest friends are still here. She has the most to lose.

 

(But maybe, at the end of the day, the blood will scrub off and her hands will be clean.)

 

Okoye waits like the soldier she is. She’s lost plenty – they all have. There’s a fear that surrounds all of them, that rises up in all of their throats and chokes them. They have one chance. They can turn back time, but they can’t change the outcome. The battle is over, and Thanos won.

 

(Thanos hasn’t won.)

 

\---

 

The spaceship lands on Titan, and the Avengers file out of the ship. A few of the Avengers – Rocket, Shuri, and a couple of others, are waiting in Wakanda with the same watches on their wrists. Okoye has Shuri in her ear to make sure that the watches are changed at the same exact time.

 

The planet brings back unwelcome memories.

 

(Pleading.  _ I don’t wanna go.) _

 

Orange dust swirls around them, and they all struggle to find their footing. Tony glances at Okoye and nods once. “You ready?”

 

She nods. “Ready when he is.”

 

Natasha takes one shaky step forward. “Bruce, you know you’re going to have to get the big guy to cooperate if this is going to work.”

 

Bruce nods. “I know.” He looks to Okoye and gives her the signal.

 

They move forward as a group, looking for Thanos. Tony tries to block the memories from his mind. The grief will swallow him whole.

 

(The grief has already defeated him.)

 

Steve is the one who finds Thanos sitting on a small patio. Clint notches an arrow, pulls the string taut, and aims.

 

There’s a roar.

 

They turn their clocks backward.

 

\---

 

The scenery changes to the Wakandan landscape. Thanos looks around, clenches his fist.

 

“Get that damn gauntlet off him,” Tony says into the comm. “We have two hours to beat him.”

 

Shuri screams and rushes forward. Clint pulls out his arrows, using his Thanos-killing arrows sparingly. Thor roars, clouds gather, and lightning flashes all around them.

 

Nebula and Tony go after the gauntlet. At Tony’s signal, Clint grabs a Thanos-killing arrow and aims for Thanos’s arm. It rips through the flesh, and Thanos screams in pain. Nebula rushes forward, draws her sword, and slices his arm. The purple limb falls and Shuri uses an anti-gravity force to move it away from the thick of battle.

 

One hour.

 

Tony and Nebula ignore the gauntlet for the time being. Thanos roars, knocking Natasha aside. She crashes into a wall of stone and gasps. Steve glances back at her, but continues to fight. Thanos brings up his remaining fist and tries to smush Steve.

 

Hulk roars and rushes forward, knocking Thanos into a tree. Hulk tears at the purple skin, clawing at the titan. Thanos tries to push against him, but Nebula uses the fallen rocks as steps and leaps forward. She drives her sword into his heart. Clint aims for Thanos’s throat. Thor swings his axe.

 

Thanos is dead.

 

Ten minutes.

 

Tony steps out of the armor and rushes for the gauntlet. It’s still studded with the six infinity stones. They have the power to reverse all of this.

 

_ Tony, no! _

 

_ Stark, you are not powerful enough to wield the gauntlet. _

 

_ We can’t bring them back! _

 

_ Bruce, I need you right now! Shuri, someone! _

 

_ Put that down! _

 

_ It’ll kill you! _

 

_ It will burn your brain! _

 

_ It will corrupt you! _

 

Tony ignores all of them. He calls his armor back to him, slips the gauntlet from the lifeless limb, and puts it on his own hand.

 

Power – unrelenting power – rushes through him. It knocks the breath from his chest, and he feels his brain burning, on fire.

 

_ What do you want? _

 

There’s so much – world peace, a child, anything. He could have all of it, any of it, but it all dulls in comparison to a world with only half the people as before, a world without Peter Parker.

 

Tony grits his teeth.  _ Bring them all back, _ he says.  _ Bring them all back. _

 

The gauntlet hisses.  _ Are you sure, Tony Stark? _

 

_ I want you to bring them all back and then I want you to go away. _

 

The gauntlet hisses again.  _ As you wish. _

 

Light explodes from his arm, and his armor does its best to ensure that he’s not burned. Time turns. The hands of the clock are pushed forward.

 

_ Bring Peter back to me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, that "10 little Avengers" thing? Peter was witnessing a skewed perspective. THEY DON'T DIE, Y'ALL.


	8. With Bated Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a gust of wind over to his left, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He charges his repulsors, waits with bated breath. Ash swirls around, each particle touching the next, mending itself together. The wind picks up, and Tony has to turn his head to avoid the orange dust spitting into his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say this chapter would be long? No. Did I say it would happen? Yes. Buckle up, bitches, it's resurrection time!!!

There’s a burst of light.

 

Wakanda disappears. His teammates disappear. Nebula grips his arm.

 

The ground shakes underneath them, shifting, shifting, deciding its course of action.

 

The hands of the clock wind, wind, wind.

 

The clock stops.

 

Time stops.

 

He holds his breath.

 

*

 

The light fades away, and Tony stares at the orange dust-filled planet. His heart beats faster, warning him that something went wrong, but he knows that’s not the case. He’s just waiting. Waiting for one week, one month, one year. He’s waiting, and he’ll wait until his dying breath.

 

There’s a gust of wind over to his left, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He charges his repulsors, waits with bated breath. Ash swirls around, each particle touching the next, mending itself together. The wind picks up, and Tony has to turn his head to avoid the orange dust spitting into his face.

 

The wind dies down. The insect lady – didn’t Quill call her Mantis? – stands where she left, head tilted as she assesses the situation. She looks to him, and something fills her eyes. Tony grits his teeth and waits for the other gusts of wind.

 

As with Mantis, Drax and Quill return. Mantis smiles and hugs them, but she keeps her eyes on Tony, observes how he stares at the same spot.

 

Strange comes back. He doesn’t have anything to say to Tony, just buries his head in his hands and sobs, “Thank you,  _ God.”  _ He looks up and waits with Tony.

 

“You traded his life for mine.”

 

Strange stares at the back of Tony’s head. “There was no other way, Tony.”

 

“Yeah, tell that to me when you lose your kid.”

 

Strange nods to a small mound of dirt. “He’s not gone forever.”

 

The wind kicks up.

 

*

 

Tony takes a step forward.

 

He doesn’t see anyone else; he doesn’t feel Mantis touch his arm, doesn’t hear Strange’s voice. All he’s aware of is the swirling ash folding itself together, stitching itself together. The wind gusts, and Tony takes another step forward.

 

When the dust dies down, Peter Parker stands before him.

 

*

 

Peter stares at his hands, turning them over, poking them to make sure they’re solid. He’s solid. He pats his legs, his chest, his face. He’s alive, he’s whole, he’s concrete. When he looks up, Tony’s staring at him with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

 

Peter doesn’t know what to say, and by the looks of it, neither does Tony.

 

*

 

Peter’s alive.

 

He’s standing right there, right where he died, and he’s  _ alive, _ he’s alright.

 

Tony rushes forward and pulls Peter into a hug. He’s crying, but he tries not to let it show. He clings to Peter (the way Peter clung to him all those months ago), cradles his head in his hand, and he tries to let Peter know how much his death broke him.

 

There are no words. Peter clings to him and sobs into Tony’s shirt, but this time the tears are of relief, this time the tears are good.

 

Tony’s heart broke into irreparable pieces seven months ago, and now his body is stitching them together, pulling the silk along the shattered edges, mending him.

 

Tony sobs into Peter’s hair. The weight of the moment is overwhelming, and he lowers them to the ground. Peter doesn’t let go. Tony can’t.

 

As he rocks Peter back and forth, the only thing he can think of to say is, “You’re alright.”

 

Peter’s alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna transition into recovery mode next. It's gonna be great, wild, fantastic! (Does anyone want a time skip? I'm all for it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'll continue. Just. Give me a day to think about how Peter could be brought back.


End file.
